


Perfect For You

by LemonTwist



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, Excessive Foreplay, F/M, Fellatio, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Light Bodice-Rippery, Multiple Orgasms, Not-quite Dirty Talk, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Romantic Fluff, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, erotic spanking, genital spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonTwist/pseuds/LemonTwist
Summary: Requested Bard and Reader, in which Bard shows her who she's meant to be with.She is a vivacious and popular citizen of Laketown. Bard has certainly noticed that she's unlike anyone else he knows. Attraction doesn't always present itself in obvious ways.





	Perfect For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashley_Winchester_77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_Winchester_77/gifts).



> This was requested a really long time ago and I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this posted. I hope you enjoy!

“Your eyes sparkle like the fabled gems of Erebor.” A demure smile paired with coquettishly downcast eyes. “You flatter me, Sir”

 

“Your smile warms me so. I forget we are still in the dead of winter!” A lighthearted giggle and gently fluttered eyelashes. “You rogue. I cannot be the only one to remind you of Springtime.”

 

“You are all the sunshine this dismal town needs.”

 

This Saturday was going much the way every market day did for her. Bright smiles were everywhere. For all of Laketown's drawbacks, the people were good and always had kind words for each other.

 

“Of course I can send for that fabric! For you, anything.”

 

“But you must take it. I insist!”

 

“A special price for you. My father won't mind.”

 

“My mother won't mind.”

 

“My sister won't mind.”

 

“The missus won't even no-”, the shopkeeper cast a nervous glance cast to the stern-faced woman standing behind him, “Oh, there you are, my love. I was just mentioning you to the young lady.”

 

Walking away from the last store, she laughed at the elderly couple's antics. Oh, but it was a beautiful day and her ears were still ringing with the poetic and sometimes ridiculous compliments of the men, young and old, she had been dealing with in the various stores. She laughed again, happily, as she let them wash over her again in her mind.

 

“Well, I see you're at it again.”

 

... Or rather, she had been.

 

She sighed internally. “What do you want, Bard?”

 

The boatman remained casually leaning against the post, looking out over the water. He turned his head at her words, as if just now registering her presence. “Oh, just wondering how many marriages were still solid, how many sweethearts still secure, after your... Shopping today.”

 

She bristled at his insulting insinuation, though she was hardly surprised by his tone at this point. “I never confuse what is mine with what is not.”

 

“Perhaps not. But do any of these boys understand that?”

 

“The _young men_ I come in contact with have always been civil.”

 

“Ah yes. Civility. I suppose that is why you are regularly compared to the radiance of the sun, the brilliance of the stars, because they are civil.”

 

As he spoke his voice remained even, but the sardonic expression he wore told her exactly what he thought of this theory.

 

“Yes, civil. But I can understand why you, who has never had a kind word for me, might confuse basic manners with something else.” She was proud of the imperious tone she had been able to keep through the end of the sentence. It would not do to let her bitter feelings show through.

 

She supposed she could not fully blame Bard for his animosity towards her, though she had been stunned by it at first. Being a widowed father of three, two of whom were girls, he must despise her for her gregarious manner and throng of admirers. It still stung, however, when he spoke to her this way, showing how little he really thought of her. In spite of his consistent jabs at her character, she had witnessed his true nature over the course of their acquaintance and knew him to be generous and compassionate.

 

Why had he singled her out for his disapproval? Surely there were others in Laketown that set far worse examples than she.

 

“I did not know that a kind word from me was ever required.”

 

“It isn't.”

 

“Is that what you seek from your little... dalliances? Kindness?”

 

His condescending tone broke her of the last bit of forbearance she had for this conversation. She stepped up right in front of him and jabbed her slim finger into his firm chest. “I have no “little dalliances”, as you so charmingly put it. And what I seek from a lover is no concern of yours, nor will it ever be!”

 

She began to whirl away from him, but was stopped by a strong hand gripping her elbow. He didn't turn her back to him, though, but stayed there behind her and spoke so only she could hear. “A truly satisfied woman does not need to defend her nighttime activities, nor assert the manhood of those who admire her. Perhaps I am not concerned with what you seek, but rather with what you should be seeking.”

 

At this, he released her and strode away in quick, long strides, leaving her standing breathless and confused on the boardwalk.

 

What had just happened?

 

She didn't see him again for a few days after that, which was odd, because, ordinarily, he was popping up all over the place and everywhere she wished he wasn't. He was an inopportune, unpredictable, and completely integral part of her daily scenery. What could that block-headed, firm-buttocked, dimpled know-it-all be up to all this time that had completely disappeared him from her sphere?

 

In a completely unrelated decision, she began taking new routes home. Exercise was good for the soul, told herself. She wasn't intentionally walking closer to Bard's house and she _certainly_ wasn't at all interested in seeing the snobbish oaf. But just in case she did, she had a few choice questions for him.

 

When she finally did lay eyes on the snobbish oaf in question, he was sitting in his boat, fixing his net. His strong, well-shaped hands, somehow powerful yet so elegant at the same time, were working with precision, never making a mistake.

 

Damn him.

 

“What exactly is it that you think I should be seeking?”, she stood on the dock above him, her arms crossed in front of her, ready for the argument this would certainly become.

 

“Do you really care to know?”

 

“I care to be amused, bargeman, and I believe this entirely unique perspective should fit the bill perfectly.”

 

He did not reply right away, but instead carefully set aside his net and tools, wiped his hands on his trousers and stood, before walking over to her to plant one foot on the pier to look her in the eye.

 

“If you were smart you would seek what you have never had.”

 

Even though she had only had one lover in the past and a few sloppy kisses with shopboys since, she couldn't help replying, “And what if I've had all there is to have?”

 

He responded by straightening the leg he had propped up on the dock, standing in one even motion. In the next instance, he had taken her jaw in his hands and his eyes were pinning her where she stood. “I very much doubt that. I'm not talking about the fumbling touches of fools, the half-pleasure of an inept _boy_. I mean the kind of experience that makes you forget what day it is, what is around you. The kind that leaves you exhausted and sated, yet continually craving more. If that is not what you have been seeking, then you have been but wandering blindly, finding nothing of value.”

 

His voice grew rougher towards the end of his speech and her eyes had slid closed, letting the sounds wash over her. She couldn't deny that what he described sounded better than anything she had ever had, and after that near-kiss, she could almost believe that he wanted her.

 

But too much had been said between them for too long for her to simply forget all and let her guard down. So she instead leaned into him, until her mouth was almost upon his, her thumb stroking the hand that was still at her jaw and said, “That sounds wonderful. I think I'll follow your advice and find someone who can give me that, immediately.”

 

And with her final words she pulled his hand from her face, shoved him away from her and fled.

 

His words haunted her, however, reminding her of what she'd never had before. The last two days had found her wondering if any of the men who spoke so poetically to her could follow through on their promises. There was one man, who worked as a cobbler's apprentice, who would, on occasion, try to kiss her. Usually, she would duck him and dance out the door, laughing as she went. Today, however, she kissed him back, very briefly, wanting so desperately to feel the same spark, the same wild heat Bard had inspired in her with nothing more than words. But she was left cold, and surprisingly guilty. She couldn't kiss someone as an experiment. So she drew back as gently as she could, murmured something about being overcome with the summer's heat, though it was still the middle of winter, and ran home as fast as her feet would take her.

 

When she first came into the Cobbler's shop, if she had looked out the window just once, she would have seen the Boatman standing there, watching her. If she had looked a second time,after the kiss, she would have seen he was long gone.

 

As happened too often in Laketown, the snow that came one week was quickly replaced by rain the next. The heavy downpour not only washed the city clean and renewed the air, it also provided her with a chance to sit quietly and sort out her thoughts. Unfortunately, it seemed the more she pondered her confused emotions, the more tangled they became.

 

She was pulled from her introspection by loud knocking at her door. She supposed she really shouldn't have been surprised to see Bard standing there. That heavy, decisive pounding could almost be a metaphor for his personality as a whole. He towered over her with one arm braced above him on the door frame, his hair swinging wild and wet around his face. He smelled like the rain, like pure lye soap. He looked like a man at the edge of sanity. His dark eyes flashed at her as if to mimic the storm raging around them. She felt herself spark in response to his raw presence.

 

Before she could gather her thoughts to ask him what he was doing at there, he stepped inside and took her face in his hands and kissed her. This kiss was nothing like the storybooks say. He was nothing like a man starved or like a man clinging to a lifeline. He was a man half-mad with desire, at his wits' end, and more than a little angry. He pulled back after a brief moment and rasped, “How could you fall so easily into the arms of that half-wit? Answer me!”

 

But he didn't give her the chance to answer. His hands slid from her face to the back of her head and tangled in the hair there, as he reclaimed her mouth. He nipped at her lips, sucked on them, bit again, licked at the seam of her mouth until her mouth opened and she leaned into him, having never been kissed this way before.

 

His mouth abruptly left hers to begin kissing and sucking its way down her sensitive neck. When he reached her collarbone, he explored it with his tongue. One of his hands slid from her unbound hair down to the small of her back, while the other remained behind her head, arching her neck to allow him full access. She had never imagined such sensation could come from this slow careful laving, so different from the marauding kisses he had begun with or his feverish descent down her neck.

 

He spent some time there, weaving to and fro, sweeping his mouth up from her collarbone to the base of her neck to bite gently, only abandon the spot again almost immediately. His hands grabbed the front of her dress, where the laces were pulled but untied, and yanked it open. He pulled the neckline of her chemise down, exposing her breasts to the chilly air. He sealed his lips around one nipple, sucking strongly as his muscled workman's arms wrapped back around her. He switched to the other breast after a few moments and the sudden cold on the wet, swollen nipple he had abandoned caused her knees to weaken almost as much as his skilled attentions. She trembled in his arms and clutched at the sleeves of the long duster coat he still wore. She felt somewhat vulnerable, standing there in her worn flannel house dress, but she found she wasn't completely opposed to the feeling.

“You are mine. I should have made you mine long ago.” he rasped against her skin. His voice held a note of regret, layered with determination.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes.” His hand dragged slowly from her back around to her belly, over her breasts with pressure so light she found herself arching for a deeper touch. He smiled at that, though his eyes still flashed with his tumultuous emotions. “Even having never touched you, I know this body better than anybody, perhaps even yourself.”

 

“That's a bold claim.”

 

“I claim nothing I cannot prove.”

 

She couldn't resist goading him, “I doubt that.”

 

In an instant his lips met hers again with a new urgency. His arms tightened around her back to the point of nearly lifting her, as hers wound around his neck. He began walking, pushing her backwards until they finally reached her bed. In a smooth motion his hands dropped from her body and he shrugged his coat to the ground. He reached up to his neck to take her wrists in his hands. Gazing into her eyes, he kissed each palm, nipping gently, before he transferred both wrists to one of his hands. She briefly wondered what was going on, when he planted the foot nearest the bed on her low foot stool, bending his knee at a right angle and, deftly pivoting her body, pulled her over his thigh.

 

The hand that had been holding her wrists released them in favor of resting on her upper back, the pressure keeping her in a position she had certainly never found herself before. His other hand was planted on her bottom and began caressing it. Her hair hung about her face, keeping her from seeing what was going on, but she didn't sweep it back. Her face was burning and she had no idea if she would like the direction this was headed, though she couldn't deny her curiosity at where he would take things. He kept his caresses slow, the heat from his hand sinking through the fabric into her skin.

 

“There is a fine line between excitement and anxiety.” His voice had a lazy tone to it. It seemed that, now he had her where he wanted her, he was content to take all the time in the world.

 

The hand on her bottom stopped stroking her. He smacked her, dead in the center and very lightly. She was cushioned by the fabric of her dress and chemise, but she jolted nonetheless, shocked in spite of the fact that she wasn't truly surprised. The hand between her shoulder blades rubbed her muscles, and the hand on her backside resumed its circling motion.

 

“The only real difference between the two is in our rational minds.”

 

Another smack landed in the exact same spot and only slightly more forceful. She gasped and tensed briefly. Her hands clutched at the bedding beneath her. Her core throbbed, as much from his intoxicating voice and words as from his scandalous actions. His hand returned to caressing, touching very lightly, then squeezing more firmly. Another smack soon followed, the same intensity, but slightly lower.

 

“It's the difference between wanting.”

 

Caress.

 

“And fearing.”

 

Smack.

 

She was still nervous, but she was also aroused. So she remained where she was, bent over his lap with her breasts hanging out of the front of her dress, in possibly the most vulnerable position she'd ever been, and waited to see what he would do next.

 

He began gathering her skirt up in his hand, before throwing the fabric over her back. He left her chemise in place, however, before he landed his next blow. He kept this up for a few moments, shifting where his blows landed very slightly, but keeping them always towards the center. These she felt more strongly, in spite of the fact that it seemed he had adjusted the force of them for her less-protected backside. She also noticed that his caresses had taken on a new aspect. He began running his fingers lower, to brush against the sensitive, damp skin of her center. He lingered there longer each time, applying just enough pressure to make her arch against him.

 

Cool air touched her, letting her know that she was now fully bared before him. A single, skilled finger touched her nub and began softly rubbing over it, around it. The hand at the top of her back was still holding her in place and she found this somehow heightened her desire. He moved from the knot of flesh to stroke through her labia, dipping into her core but leaving before she could fully appreciate the touch. She tried to squirm, but found that her legs were straight underneath her, leaving her with very little room to wiggle.

 

Slowly, his pressure on her sex increased, though his fingers maintained their slow even pace. They slipped easily through her folds, never staying in one place long enough to really please. Suddenly they disappeared from her altogether and she let out a whimper that turned into a squeal as his hand slapped against her sex, causing a brief, sharp sting that quickly blossomed into pleasure when his hand returned to stimulating the bundle of nerves.

 

“Shall I tell you how often I've dreamed of you?”

 

She remained silent, her mind caught between _yes_ and _no_ for reasons she couldn't possibly explain.

 

His hand smacked her clitoris more sharply than it had before. The resulting sting was stronger and, as a result, the feeling of his finger stroking it again was more torturous. She whined as he slid his thumb into her core, massaging the front wall.

 

“I couldn't quite make that out.”

 

“Please.” Oh, he was reaching all the right spots inside her with diabolical precision.

 

He leaned down over her so he could speak in her ear as his wicked hand continued to pleasure her. “I've seen you in so many ways. Not always like this, you understand; completely at my mercy.”

 

His hand smacked her sex again, before slipping his thumb back inside of her as his fingers continued to slide around and over her nub.

 

“Sometimes I see us very much like this, only in these visions it would be me as you are now. I would submit so sweetly to you, do your bidding without batting an eye, offer you whatever you demanded.” Another slap landed. His blows were steadily increasing in force. But in spite of the short sting, there was no true pain, only the agonizing bliss of his hand that delivered pleasure too precisely to allow her body to calm itself and too unpredictably to allow her to fall over the edge.

 

“Sometimes I see us together as gently as two people could be.” His hand left her sex now to trail over her bottom. She could feel the cool wetness of her own arousal against her naked backside, the consistent, massaging pressure of the hand that kept her balanced over his thigh, his warm breath through the tangle of hair falling about her face and the heat of his body surrounding hers.

 

“I see us in my boat, letting the motion of the water dictate our pleasure to each other.”

 

He circled a finger around her rectum in a motion that shouldn't have pleased her nearly as much as it did. There was no unpleasant friction. His fingers were still slick with her arousal.

 

“I see us in a field in the sun, mating as naturally as the creatures who call it home.”

 

His fingers reached lower again, very briefly, to brush over her neglected core. She shivered and whined. Her hands had a death grip on the quilt.

 

“I see us, I see _you_ in every way a man can envision a woman, but there's always a constant.”

 

A harsher blow, spread over her whole sex.

 

“In these cruel imaginings, these brief daydreams you are always willing.”

 

A smack, this time to her backside, in the center.

 

“Always naked.”

 

Another blow in the same spot. His hand remained there, his fingers spreading possessively over her flesh.

 

“Always mine.”

 

His hand returned to her core where he spread her juices around. It was gone in the next instant, and he was back to circling his thumb around her anus. The moisture from her center allowed his digit to slip easily on top of and around the puckered muscle. She was caught between flexing away from him in consternation and pushing up into him to feel more of the alien sensation. But before she could decide, he was moving on from that spot again, returning to her swollen clitoris. She was panting now, whimpering occasionally, pleading incoherently for things she couldn't express with words.

 

Suddenly, he slid his leg out from under her, moving to kneel behind her, gripping her hips in his hands. His mouth latched onto her nub. His tongue swirled around it, much as his finger had done. His hands were squeezing the globes of her backside, thumbs brushing skin made tender by an assault too precise and too pleasurable to truly be called anything so mundane as _spanking_. He was holding her up, pinning her down, servicing her yet taking exactly what he wanted, all at once. She gasped for breath, and she could almost swear she felt him smiling against her flesh. When he inserted two fingers into her, she trembled and sobbed and begged and finally, _finally_ found release. She shattered and screamed against her bedspread. Pleasure swelled in her over and over and he held her fast through it all, ensuring she experienced every agonizing, delicious moment.

 

When she was about to collapse to her knees, he helped her to stand and turn in his arms. He kissed her again, more tenderly than he had before, and began helping her out of her dress. When she was nude, she lay down on her bed, noticing how the sensitized skin of her buttocks dragged against the soft fabric, ever so slightly. She watched in a daze as he began stripping his clothes off, slowing the process down when he looked up and locked eyes with her. One corner of his mouth lifted and for a brief moment he seemed nearly shy.

 

But then he spoke. “Like what you see, petal?”

 

She feigned indecision. “Perhaps... It's hard to tell from that distance. You'll have to come closer so I can look.”

 

With the cocky grin that she had come to associate with him fully in place, he sauntered over to the bed. He was as comfortable naked as he was navigating the waters of the town or throwing out casual insults to the Master's henchmen. He was more tan on his hands and face than he was on the rest of his body. His muscles were lean and defined, his belly a taught slab that belonged on someone fifteen years his junior. His erect cock hung proudly between his thighs, bouncing with each step.

 

When he reached the bed, she pivoted her body so that her feet were planted against the wall and her head hung off the side. She grabbed his firm, tight rear in her hands and sheathed his manhood in her mouth. Her bold move startled him and he lost his seductive calm for a moment. Sucking in a breath, he bent forward over her, planting his hands on either side of her pelvis. His long hair tickled the skin of her lower belly and the sensation caused her to rake her nails over his backside as her mouth worked his silky, hard flesh. He made a sound she had never thought to hear from a man; a kind of pained groan. The noise made her wetter and she wiggled her hips, seeking relief. She could feel the pulse of his manhood within her mouth as she greedily devoured him.

 

When she pulled back to flick at the head with the tip of her tongue, he grabbed her ankles at the same time he pulled his hips back, extracting himself from her mouth. He spun her back around till her head was back on the pillow and her legs had been dropped again to the mattress. He climbed onto the bed and leaned down over her so that their noses were nearly touching. She rubbed his thigh with her own and he settled into the space she made for him between her legs. She could feel his hardness nudge against her sensitive folds and he groaned when she arched against him to feel it more firmly against her wet heat. In response, he dropped his head down and bit her neck, sucking hard as his hand wandered to her breast and began kneading it. His other hand grabbed one of her thighs and pulled it up higher as he ground his hips into hers. She threw her head back and keened a high, nearly pained sound. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she wrapped the leg he had grabbed around his back so that she could pull him closer.

 

Suddenly, he pulled back from her and she whined at the brief loss of contact, only for him to grasp both of her knees and push them together. He raised her legs up above her in one hand so that her hips were raised slightly off the bed, and traced her folds with the other. He laid them over one shoulder and shuffled closer on his knees. She was about to ask what he was doing, when he suddenly pushed inside of her.

 

The position of her legs made the fit even tighter than it would have been and he gave her a moment to adjust to the intrusion, stroking her breasts and the fronts of her thighs with the hand not securing her legs to his chest. When he began to move, it was with slow, measured thrusts. She had felt his arousal earlier she had been bent over his knee and was amazed at his self-control. He was bumping a place deep inside of her that caused her to sob and grip the pillow under her head. His thrusts began to increase both in pace and force and he turned his head to bite at her thigh. His free hand traveled down to squeeze her bottom before he shifted forward, pushing her thighs back towards her chest. She howled incoherently at the new angle, the stretch. She could feel another climax approaching, but something was holding it at bay.

 

“Please”, she whined.

 

He stroked her face tenderly, “Please, what, Love?”

 

“I don't know”, she panted “something...ah!...more.”

 

Her hands were reaching up to grab his shoulders trying to pull him closer. He smoothly pulled out of her, though it looked like it physically pained him to do so, and let her legs drop to the side. This caused her hip to tilt and he helped her roll completely to her side as he settled himself behind her. He brushed her hair back from her face as he began rocking against her still warm backside, the tip of his cock brushing against her slick heat. He drew her leg back over his hip and helped her tilt her pelvis to allow him to slide back into her aching, throbbing center.

 

He kissed her cheek as he began to move and she quickly turned her head to capture his mouth in a searing kiss. She did not let go for a long while, as she met his thrusts. Meanwhile, he brought his hand down to the front of her sex to touch her clitoris again before circling up to her breast to tease the nipple. He repeated this cycle and she whimpered in a way that, had he been a younger man, would have made him spill himself then and there. He disengaged his mouth from hers, stroking her hair with the hand underneath him, and began speaking to her very quietly. His voice was ragged with passion.

 

“I've longed for you, ached for you. But any dream, any fevered imagining, could never compare to the feeling of you, naked and pressed against me like this. Knowing how you _must_ look, flushed and needin', is nothing compared to the sight of your lush backside warmed and pinked by my hand, your sweet, perfect breasts glistening with my spit, heavy with your desire for me, your delicate neck mottled with evidence of my claiming, your delicious honeypot, clenching and weeping for me, your wide, glorious eyes shining up at me, showing such satisfaction, your arms clutching me to you, _finally_ admitting that you want me as I want you.”

 

His breath fell hot on her ear, his back covered hers and his hips were driving his cock in at the perfect angle to drive her mad. He peppered kisses over her cheek and whispered his bliss and gratitude. He took her nub between his fingers and began tugging and rolling it as he thrust more forcefully. She fell over the edge a second time with a scream. He worked her through her pleasure, making it last as long as possible, before pulling out from her and spilling onto her hip with a long, agonized groan.

 

They lay together like that for a while as their breathing slowed. Her body was wrung out and her limbs felt heavy in the most pleasant of ways. She was horrified when tears began gathering in her eyes. Bard immediately noticed.

 

“Sweeting, what's wrong? Have I hurt you?” At his gentle entreaty, she shook her head, even as she sniffed.

 

“For so long, I thought you hated me. I was sure you disapproved of me for my admirers. I thought you made those comments because you wanted me to keep my distance from your daughters--” The tears flowed freely now, her hurt no longer contained by the cool distance they had kept between each other. In an instant, she was on her back and he was hovering over her, cupping her face in his hands, thumbing her tears away. His eyes were warm and earnest.

 

“Forgive me. I was a jealous fool who didn't know how to admit to himself that he was infatuated.” He leaned in and kissed her eyelids, her nose and finally, her mouth. When she responded, he melted into her, covering her with his body.

 

They continued this way for a moment before their kisses grew more passionate. When he moved to settle back between her legs, however, she dumped him off the bed. He looked up at her startled from his spot on the floor. When he moved to get up again, she planted a foot on his shoulder to stop him. His eyes darkened at the expression on her face.

 

“I forgive you, but I am curious. I believe you said something earlier about submitting to _my_ desires?” She grinned as he moved back, still on his knees, to perform an overly-dramatic bow.

 

She supposed it was true, that the course of love never did run smooth.

 

But it certainly ran true.


End file.
